


What Really Happened After Andrea Got Shot

by ultragirlvfr750



Category: The Closer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 02:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3273698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultragirlvfr750/pseuds/ultragirlvfr750
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Andrea Hobbs is targeted by the cartel and shot, Brenda pays her a visit to make sure she's all right and an interesting evening ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Really Happened After Andrea Got Shot

**Author's Note:**

> Written for authorjazmyne's birthday. It's smut people. I wanted an excuse to explore the Brenda.Andrea pairing.
> 
> Firmly in The Closer Universe. Set directly after Season 7 episode 8.

Morning

It was only later, the morning light bathing the bedroom in warmth, forcing Brenda to kick away the sheets wound in her feet, coaxing her eyes open, to see what she could already feel - a muscled shoulder, smattering of freckles like constellations, her mouth pressed against silken hair - that she was forced to admit, for all his flaws, when it came to Andrea Hobbs her husband had been right.

What he’d failed to calculate was the other half of the equation.

12 Hours Earlier

1.

“I don’t understand why you have to leave for DC tonight.  I mean right now?”

Brenda leaned against the doorway to the bedroom she shared with Fritz, a petulant expression on her face.  She chewed absently on a lock of her blonde hair as she watched him efficiently toss socks, underwear, even his squash gear into a small suitcase on their bed.

 “Brenda honey, this isn’t just a Los Angeles thing anymore.  It’s the cartel so now it’s an FBI thing.” Fritz explained in a tired voice. “And whether you like it or not getting to the truth behind the attempted assassination of a Deputy DA takes this case to a whole new level.”

 “And I suppose you’re the one who has to be takin’ it there?”

Brenda winced. She hadn’t meant to sound so dismissive.

Fritz only sighed and crossed the room to take Brenda in his arms.

“I’ll only be gone a couple of days.  In the meantime why don’t you take the opportunity to spend some time with some of your new admirers?  You could start with Captain Raydor.”

“Captain Sharon Raydor,” Brenda scoffed.  “The only thing that woman admires about me is my ability to keep her department busy.”

“It’s just a feeling I get and you two have been thick as thieves lately.”

“Because of the lawsuit, Fritzi”.

Fritz pulled away and turned back to his packing.

“It’s just been a long day Brenda and sometimes I get tired of watching everyone getting in line to make eyes at my wife.  Including the Deputy DA I saved from a hail of bullets this afternoon.”

“DDA Hobbs?” Brenda exclaimed. “Agent Howard I think getting’ shot at is playin’ with your perceptions. The only ‘looks’,” Brenda mimed quotes in the air in front of her, “that Andrea Hobbs throws in my direction are expressions of resigned contempt that I’m allowed anywhere near her trials.”

“Whatever, Brenda,” Fritz replied.  “I know what I saw.  Call it male intuition.”

Brenda snorted.

“I’m sure that’s about as reliable as the FBI keepin’ track of its informants.”

“Look, Brenda I don’t have time to argue.  If you don’t believe me go see for yourself.” Fritz yanked the suitcase off the bed.  “You can get my jacket back while you’re at it.”

He headed for the front hall and Brenda trailed after him.

“Well, maybe I will,” she retorted.

“Fine. Whatever.  I’ll call you when I get to DC,” Fritz planted a perfunctory kiss on her cheek and then he was gone, leaving behind the scent of his cologne and a rift between them that was filled   
with resentment and something new. 

Resignation.

Brenda shook her head and rolled her eyes at her husband’s misconceptions.  He was being entirely too possessive lately and Brenda realized that, apparently, shadowing her had had more to do with keeping an eye on Andrea and less to do with her perceived safety.  Which in the end had worked out in the Deputy DA’s favour.

She snorted again, this time in disgust.  Jealousy was not a trait her husband wore well.

Just because Andrea Hobbs made no secret of the fact that she dated women didn’t automatically mean that she was, what had Fritz called it, ‘makin’ eyes’ at every pretty woman she met.  Why was it that a man’s default position around a lesbian was to immediately assume she was trying to seduce his wife? 

And Captain Raydor?  An assumption about her intentions bordered on paranoia.  Other than the fact that she had children and she was separated from their father Sharon had never given any indication about her sexual orientation, to anyone in the department, and as far as Brenda was concerned about the only thing she could imagine getting the Captain hot under the collar was an LAPD rule book and the opportunity to piss people off.

Brenda padded into the living room, intent on opening a bottle of merlot.  Lord knows she deserved a drink after the day she’d had. With Gavin interviewing the members of her squad and Goldman pushing for the lawsuit to continue, Brenda made a mental note to stock up her wine rack.  

She selected a particularly nice vintage and then cocked her head to one side, her lower lip catching between her teeth.  It was so quiet in the house with Fritz gone, and drinking alone always made her feel just a little bit pathetic. 

It wouldn’t kill her to go and check up on Andrea, see how she was faring after being shot in the arm.  It might even improve their working relationship Brenda thought as she shrugged into her coat and shoved the bottle of wine directly into her ever-present handbag.  

Fritz had driven the DDA home and by time she’d located her address in the GPS Brenda’s conversation with her husband was almost entirely forgotten.

2.

Brenda parked the car in front of Andrea’s low slung bungalow and smiled in spite of herself.  She wasn’t sure what kind of place she’d imagined Andrea living in but it wasn’t this.  The DDA’s house was small, set back from the street and from the outside was almost a carbon copy of the house Brenda had purchased when she first moved to Los Angeles. 

As she started up the walk Brenda felt a lump form in the back of her throat and she pushed it away, hitching her purse up higher on her shoulder.  

Light shone from the front window and before she could worry about what the Deputy DA would think of her turning up unannounced at going on seven thirty in the evening Brenda stabbed her index finger against the doorbell and waited.  She heard the chime, hollow, on the other side of the door.

She was committed now. 

A moment passed, then another.  Brenda shifted her feet and contemplated ringing the bell again.  She decided against it and was turning to go when the front door opened and a tousle-headed Andrea stood, backlit, in the doorway.

“Chief Johnson?” Andrea’s eyes widened. “Is everything all right?  Has something happened with the case? I’m sorry I turned my phone off when I got home, if….”

“No, nothin’s happened,’ Brenda instinctively stepped forward, mentally kicking herself for scaring the DDA. “I’m the one who should be sorry.  I shoulda called before I just descended on you like this.”

“If it’s not the case then…?” Andrea raised her eyebrows but made no movement to invite the Chief inside.

For a moment Brenda stood tongue tied.  

She was used to seeing the Deputy DA in a variety of white button-down shirts and tan suits.  In fact she’d remembered joking once with David Gabriel that Andrea Hobbs’ entire closet was probably a vast sea of varying shades of brown.

This Andrea was clad in a white, ribbed tank top that revealed considerably more curves than Brenda had imagined lurking under her suit jackets.  A white bandage, courtesy of the paramedics, was wrapped tightly around the top of Andrea’s right arm.  Her other arm drifted across her chest and unconsciously tugged at the bandage, her bicep flexing.  Brenda didn’t know what she did in her off hours but whatever it was obviously involved some form of weight training.  She had on low slung, flared tights that showed off the hard planes of her belly and her feet were bare.  No polish on her toes.

Brenda realized that her eyes had settled somewhere to the left of Andrea’s bellybutton and she forcibly yanked them away, face flushing in embarrassment.  She forced her eyes to meet Andrea’s.

The sandy-haired DDA had shifted so her good shoulder was leaning against the doorframe, a slight smile playing on her lips.

Oh for heaven’s sake.  This was not turning out the way Brenda had imagined. She realized, then, in the back of her mind that she hadn’t really formulated a plan much past ringing the doorbell   
and hoping Andrea was home.  Out of desperation she rummaged in her purse and dragged out the bottle of merlot.

“I figured after the day you’ve had, gettin’ shot and all, perhaps you could use some company.”

Andrea just stared at her.

“And of course y’all have Fritzi’s jacket so I thought….”

“Right,” Andrea finally responded, “Fritz’s jacket.  Those must be going at a premium over at the FBI.”

Brenda blushed even harder, realizing how ridiculous she sounded. She wiggled the bottle in front of Andrea.  

“Well are you goin’ to invite me in or not?” Her voice sounded more strident than she intended but Brenda didn’t like feeling like somehow Andrea Hobbs had gained the ascendancy in the conversation.

Andrea simply stepped aside and ushered Brenda in.

The sense of deja vu washed over Brenda the moment she set foot in the house.  The layout was the same, living area to the right, kitchen to the left.  Even the DDA’s choice in furnishings wasn’t far off of what she’d chosen when she’d been living alone.  

Before Fritz.  

She inhaled sharply. For a moment her head swam and her chest tightened with a welter of unwanted emotion.

“What’s wrong, Chief,” Andrea briefly laid her hand on Brenda’s shoulder startling her back to the present.

“I’m fine, really, just a touch of deja vu.”

“Oh?”

“When I first moved to LA this was my house.”

“Pardon?” 

“I don’t mean literally, obviously,” Brenda rushed on, “but the exterior, the layout, even your decoratin’, it’s almost exactly the same. I almost expected Kitty to come runnin’ to the door.”

“Kitty?” 

“My cat.  He sorta came with the house,” Brenda explained.  “This place, bein’ so similar I suppose I’m reminded that I miss it.”

“And your cat,” Andrea quipped.

“Him too,” Brenda’s voice cracked and realized with a mounting horror that she was on the verge of tears.  

She cleared her throat and focused her attention back on the Deputy DA.

“Enough of me wanderin’ down memory lane.  How is your arm? Did they give you anything for the pain?”

“It’s not really that bad,” Andrea shrugged and then winced.  “All right so maybe it hurts a little.  But I hate taking pain killers.  They make me all woozy and I don’t like the feeling of being out of control so…” her voice trailed off as Brenda handed her the wine.

“Perhaps this will help,” Brenda offered a tentative smile.

Andrea returned the smile and as she took the bottle from Brenda she brushed her fingers over the smaller woman’s hand. The touch was light and then it was gone and yet Brenda’s fingers tingled and she instinctively pressed her knuckles against her mouth.

Andrea seemed not to notice ash she fetched a corkscrew from a low credenza and motioned with her free hand for Brenda to make herself comfortable.

Brenda sat gingerly on one side of the sofa.  

It was tan and Brenda had to supress a giggle at the thought of Andrea flopping down on it after work and blending into the upholstery.

Now that she was here with the pleasantries, as awkward as Brenda had made them, out of the way she was at a loss for what she and Andrea would even discuss.  Small talk was not Brenda’s strong suit and she gratefully took the glass of wine Andrea handed her and immediately took a large swallow.  

It was full bodied, almost chewy with hits of chocolate and Brenda closed her eyes, savouring the feel of it in her mouth.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone experience wine quite like that before.”

Brenda’s eyes flew open.

Andrea was perched herself on the other side of the sofa, one long leg tucked casually under her and was staring at Brenda over the rim of her own wine glass.  The open bottle was between them on sleek oblong table.

“Well go ahead,” Brenda encouraged.  “What do you think?”

Without taking her eyes off of Brenda, Andrea took a slow sip.  Brenda could feel the warmth of her own first gulp of merlot blossoming through her and she watched, almost mesmerized, as 

Andrea lowered the glass, her tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip.

“Good legs,” she nodded and then raised her glass, a smirk on her lips.   “A toast to Agent Howard’s quick reflexes.  Without them I might not be sitting here with you enjoying this very fine red.”

At the mention of her husband’s name Brenda determined that Fritz was the very last person she wanted to talk about this evening.  In fact she didn’t even want to think about him but she touched the side of her glass to Andrea’s before taking another long swallow. Fritz was going to call her when he arrived in DC and Brenda realized she’d left her phone in the car.  She thought   
briefly about excusing herself and retrieving it and decided to pour herself some more wine instead. 

“I see Gavin was making the rounds today,” Andrea said, “I suppose it was inevitable that he’d need to interview the members of your squad.  Still, it must be disconcerting.”

“For heaven’s sake is there anyone left who doesn’t know about this ridiculous lawsuit?”

“Well since you’ve spent a fair amount of your tenure pissing off most of the prosecutors in the city, in a word, no,” Andrea replied. “But if it makes you feel any better, with Gavin you’re in the very best of hands.  You won’t find a better defence attorney in LA.”

“Now you’re starting to sound like Sharon Raydor,” Brenda griped.

Andrea’s laugh was rich and she pulled her fingers through her thick hair, sweeping it so it fell in waves over her shoulder that was uninjured.

“I think I’ll take that as a compliment.  But seriously, Gavin is the best.”

“I’m sure he’s good at doin’ his job.  He’d better be considerin’ his astronomical retainer.  I just get the feelin’ he thinks I’m frivolous or, like he’s always laughin’ at me,” Brenda complained   
petulantly.

“Oh that just means he likes you,” Andrea picked up the bottle and poured herself the last of the merlot. “I’ll let you in on a little secret,” she leaned forward and Brenda caught the scent of her   
hair, jasmine and something deeper, maybe sandalwood and she involuntarily shivered. 

“Gavin will defend anyone as long as their money is the right colour, but the people he teases, those are the clients he really cares about.  It’s his way of not becoming overly emotionally invested.”

“And you know all this because…” Brenda was suddenly very aware of the other woman’s closeness.

“We went to law school together,” Andrea replied and leaned back against the sofa, cradling her wine glass in both hands. “We’ve been close friends for a long time.  But don’t worry,” she flicked her eyes in Brenda’s direction,  “He’s the soul of discretion.  Client attorney privilege and all that.  Besides, when we get together we don’t talk shop anyway.  I could tell you some stories about him that would straighten your hair…”

Brenda lifted her hand and reflexively touched the loose pony-tail at the nape of her neck and wound an errant curl absently around her index finger.

The second glass of Merlot in short succession with the first was spreading warmth through Brenda’s limbs and making her muzzy headed.  She realized she was only half listening to the DDA’s tale of Gavin’s law school escapades and was instead focusing her attention on Andrea’s lips.  They were full and dark in colour, even without the benefit of lipstick and Brenda wondered absently what the other woman would do if she leaned over at exactly that moment and captured them with her own.

Startled, Brenda jerked herself back to the conversation while a dry voice in the back of her mind reasoned that her husband’s insistence that the District Attorney was attracted her had somehow created a strange role reversal fuelled by a difficult day, the constant pressure of the lawsuit looming over her and the loosened inhibitions from drinking red wine.

“LA to Brenda,” Andrea’s voice intruded.

Brenda shook her head and gave the blonde across from her what she hoped was an intelligent smile that would trick her into believing Brenda had been hanging on her every word with rapt attention.

Andrea’s smirk told her she wasn’t buying it.

“Carmenere?” Andrea continued.

“Carmenere?” Brenda parroted realizing how foolish she sounded.

“Indeed.  It’s a type of red wine. I was asking if you’d ever tried it but I get the sense that your mind was somewhere else.”

Andrea’s expression remained neutral but there was an impish look in her piercing blue eyes as she waited for the Deputy Chief to answer, and for one terrifying moment Brenda thought Andrea could see exactly what she’d been thinking.

Her cheeks flushed and she smoothed her hands against the soft denim of her jeans.

“I usually stick to merlot,” she paused, “But I suppose I could try somethin’ new.”

“You know what they say, Brenda, variety is the spice of life,” Andrea was laughing at her, “I’ll get us a bottle. And something else you might like.”

Andrea rose gracefully from the couch and padded toward the kitchen.  Brenda watched the sway of her hips and tried helplessly to stop herself from imagining yanking the blonde’s yoga pants over those hips and cupping DA’s ass with both hands.

She felt a flood of wetness at he apex of her legs and she ground her thighs violently together and squirmed sideways on the couch.

What the hell was happening to her?  Sure the growing distance between her and Fritz and the constant strain of her imminent indictment had all but extinguished their sex life as of late.  More often than not Fritz fumbled at her in the dark with the lights out and if she wanted any kind of satisfaction she found it was easier to take care of that herself.  But none of that added up to this sudden left turn toward and overwhelming desire for Andrea Hobbs.

Andrea Hobbs was a woman.  And Brenda Leigh Johnson was categorically not sexually attracted to women.

“Except”, that dry voice in the back of her head was back, “what about that last summer of your senior year?”

Another cramp of desire flooded through her and she tilted her hips imperceptibly, pushing the wetness between her legs up against the hard inseam of her jeans.

That summer she and Rebekah had been inseperable.  They’d run together, back when Brenda ran, swam, traded clothes, makeup and secrets, staying up talking until all hours of the night and more often than not in the dark, in Brenda’s childhood bed they’d fumbled at one another, Brenda breathless from wanting, their bodies pressed together; they’d kissed and kissed until Brenda’s lips had been swollen from kissing. Once Rebekah had been bold enough to slide her hand under the raggedy t-shirt Brenda slept in and palmed Brenda’s breast.  Brenda had bucked beneath her then and Rebekah had rolled away leaving Brenda burning in the dark wanting more and not knowing how or even what to ask for. 

In the mornings they never spoke of it, the whispering, the kissing, the touching and when August had turned into September and Rebekah had left for college without saying goodbye Brenda had locked herself in her room and sobbed until she thought she’d be sick.  

And then she’d dried her eyes and when her Momma asked her how Bekha was getting on at school Brenda told her they weren’t really keeping in touch anymore.  She shut the experience away along with her girlhood room and by Thanksgiving she’d forgotten about it completely. 

Until tonight.  And now that she’d remembered there didn’t seem to be a way to forget.

Brenda shifted again against the dull throbbing between her legs and raked her fingers through her hair.

Andrea returned balancing two glasses in one hand and a small plate in the other. She placed the wine carefully on the table and turned to look at Brenda.

“Carmenere is spicy. I find it often goes best with dark chocolate…” her voice trailed off, her brow furrowed.

“Are you feeling all right? You’re flushed.”

“I was just rememberin’ something,” Brenda’s breath was ragged.

“How hot this place gets in the summer?” Andrea joked

“No further back than that,” Brenda pressed her hands against her thighs. “I’m, it’s…” she paused, “it’s been a strange day full of odd thoughts, odd conversation….”  

“Tell me about it. I’ve never been shot before.”

“Here I am swoonin’ all over your sofa when you’re the one who got shot,” Brenda reached out and tentatively touched the blonde’s arm, just below the bandage. “You’re sure it doesn’t hurt?”

Andrea shivered at her touch but didn’t pull away, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“No. Not really,” her voice was low. “The paramedics told me that it was just a graze really. I’m not even going to have a scar.”

“That’s somethin’ then,” Brenda was aware she hadn’t taken her hand off of the Deputy DA’s arm and her fingertips seemed to a have a mind of their own, her thumb making small circles over   
Andrea’s muscled bicep.

“It’s terrible,” Andrea countered with a laugh. “I get shot and I don’t even get the glory of having a scar? It doesn’t make for a very good story to impress the ladies.”

Brenda inhaled sharply, withdrew her hand and reached for her wine.

Andrea was staring at her, gauging her reaction. 

“You’re a lawyer. I’m sure you’ll think of a way to spin it. Being number one on a drug cartel’s hit list sounds fairly impressive.”

“Mmmm,” Andrea leaned over and selected a square of dark chocolate. “Brenda why did you come here tonight?”  “Just checkin’ to see you’re all right.”

Andrea scooted closer and Brenda realized she was holding her breath.  “We’re not friends,” Andrea’s voice was husky. “Technically we’re not co-workers and before this evening I wouldn’t have said we even like eachother. So....” she touched the chocolate to her lips, “why did you really come here tonight?”

Brenda was impossibly hot, her eyes focused on the chocolate and Andrea’s lips. How was she supposed to explain something she didn’t even understand herself? How was she supposed to articulate the raw need pulsing beneath the surface of her skin?

Brenda reached forward and gently took the chocolate from between Andrea’s fingers. They were so close they were almost touching and Brenda could see the question in Andrea’s eyes but something else as well. Anticipation.

Emboldened, she teased the chocolate lightly over Andrea’s bottom lip. The blonde parted her lips, her tongue darting out. She captured the dark square between her teeth, a challenge in her eyes.

Brenda leaned in and bit down on the other side of the chocolate, tasting the heady mix of cocoa, wine and Andrea’s lips. As the chocolate melted their mouths came together and Brenda felt another flood of wetness between her legs as Andrea applied pressure to their lips, deepening the kiss, sweeping her hands up to pull at the pony tail at the nape of Brenda’s neck.

Brenda was falling. She wanted the kiss to go on forever. Fevered now her hands tangled in Andrea’s lush hair and she flicked her tongue into Andrea’s mouth, tasting, feeling, touching. Andrea pulled back and Brenda groaned but the blonde captured Brenda’s bottom lip between her teeth just like she had with the chocolate. She nipped at Brenda’s lip as she pulled Brenda’s hair free of its pony-tail. The curls cascaded down her shoulder and Andrea pushed them to one side planting ticklish kisses down the column of Brenda’s neck, stopping to suck at the lithe blonde’s fevered pulse point.

Her lips travelled lower, her fingers pulling at the V of Brenda’s t-shirt in order for better access to kiss the tops of Brenda’s breasts.   Brenda pushed upward aching for the feel of Andrea’s palms fully cupping her breasts.

Again Andrea pulled away and Brenda protested with a moan, burying her face in the Deputy DA’s hair.

“Please don’t stop,” the desperation in her voice scared her.

Andrea pulled Brenda to her in a fierce hug and Brenda could feel the pounding of her heart, and then her shoulders shaking. 

Andrea was laughing.

“You’re findin’ this funny?” Brenda’s voice was ragged, “You don’t think I’m serious?”

Andrea stood up, pulling the tiny blonde to her feet and reached out and tucked a curl behind her ear, her blue eyes flashing with desire.

“Trust me Chief Johnson, ravishing you is as very serious business. But you seem to be content to have me paw at you through your clothes, on my couch, like an inept teenager,” she pulled Brenda to her, grinding their hips together. 

Brenda grabbed Andrea’s tank top and slowly worked it up over the blonde’s body, being careful of her injured arm as she pulled it over her head. She reached around in one fluid movement and unhooked Andrea’s bra, letting it fall to the carpet.

“How’s that for serious?”

Andrea wordlessly took Brenda’s hand and pulled her from the living room, down the hall, to her bedroom dimly lit by the lamps on either side of the expanse of her bed. Brenda barely had time   
to wonder whether Andrea had come in here earlier in the evening when she had gone to get the wine, dimming the lights in preparation for this eventuality. But then Andrea was pulling her onto the bed and she stopped thinking about anything but tasting the skin of the woman beneath her.

She kneaded Andrea’s breasts, revelling in their heaviness, and how the nipples jumped taut to meet her touch. She rolled them back and forth in her palms and then dropped her head to bite and suck. Andrea bucked beneath her and moaned.

Brenda sat up long enough to tear her t-shirt and her bra over her head in one frantic motion. Andrea reached out, pushed her back on the bed and then hovered for a moment over Brenda, her hair falling on both sides of her face, creating a heady cave of scented jasmine. 

Brenda whined, and twisted beneath her. She could feel her swollen clit rubbing against the constraint of her jeans and she realized in her state of arousal that all she would need to do is press her hips against Andrea’s strong thigh and she would come directly in her underwear. She tried to still herself. She wanted this endless moment of pleasure to last.

“Please,” her voice was desperate.

And then Andrea was cupping her breasts, squeezing them, lightly circling her thumbs over Brenda’s erect nipples. Something inside Brenda broke and she cried out, all the desire from those furtive summer nights channelled into this one exquisite moment.

Andrea kissed her, hard, and then she reached down and unzipped Brenda’s jeans, yanking them over her hips, stripping them from her legs. She hooked her fingers at the waistband of Brenda’s panties and teased them lower, blowing on the trimmed blonde curls that nestled against Brenda’s sex.

Brenda whined again and thrust her hips upward. 

Andrea deftly slid the panties away, tossing them over her shoulder to disappear, forgotten, into the darkness of the room behind her.

She slowly slid her fingers through Brenda’s moisture, feeling the folds of her sex, delicately circling her opening. Brenda gasped and bucked her hips as Andrea inserted one, then two fingers inside her, rocking back and forth.

Brenda felt as though her head would explode, sensations heightened to the point they were almost painful. Andrea’s fingers scissored deep inside of her and her breathing shortened as she bore down on Andrea’s hand. 

Andrea swept her tongue through Brenda’s slick folds, tasting and teasing, circling higher and higher until the tip of her tongue touched Brenda’s clit. At the touch Brenda whipped her head back and forth, instinctively bringing her hands to the back of Andrea’s head, pressing her closer to the source of her pleasure. Andrea nibbled at her clit again, savouring Brenda’s cries. She licked, lost in Brenda’s taste, her tongue circling harder and harder, her fingers pushing further and faster. 

Brenda drove her hips upward, bearing down on Andrea’s fingers, her thighs clenching together, quivering as her orgasm ripped through her. Andrea withdrew her fingers but continued to swirl her tongue lightly through Brenda’s sex, kissing the folds, and then trailing her lips over Brenda’s inner thighs.

Brenda pulled at Andrea, wanting to feel the warmth of her body pressed against her. Andrea slid upward and languidly kissed her and Brenda tasted her own sweetness in Andrea’s mouth. She realized then that the other woman was still wearing her yoga and pants and she laughed.

“That’s not the typical response I usually get afterward,” Andrea said smiling lazily.

“You’re still wearin’ your pants,” Brenda’s voice was breathless. “We should do something about that,” she finished, brushing the blonde’s taut nipple with the palm of her hand.

“Mmm,” Andrea wiggled out of her tights and Brenda was not surprised to notice she hadn’t been wearing underwear.”

“Commando, DDA Hobbs,” she purred. “I would never have guessed.”

“Panties create a line,” Andrea answered almost primly and Brenda laughed again.

Cradled into the other woman’s side she allowed her eyes to travel the length of Andrea. Her strong shoulders, breasts naturally full with dark, erect nipples. Brenda could feel the muscle under her skin and her belly was taut with a tiny swell of softness that gave way to a trimmed thatch of ginger hair. Andrea’s hips were curved and Brenda reached around and cupped the swell of her ass letting her hands travel down long muscled legs. Her hands crept upward until her fingertips swirled lightly at the apex of Andrea’s thighs. She felt a flood of wetness as she dragged her index finger for the first time through a soft cleft that was not her own. 

Brenda shivered as Andrea moaned next to her and bit her lower lip. She pressed harder, finding Andrea’s clit, rubbing her finger harder in long rhythmic strokes. Andrea moaned against her mouth and rocked her hips against Brenda’s hand. 

Brenda slowly increased the speed of her movements, circling her finger tips around Andrea’s opening with every stroke. Andrea clenched her thighs around Brenda’s hand, a flush spreading across her breasts. She absently rolled her own nipple between her fingertips and Brenda watched, mesmerized, as she pulled at it in time with the rocking of Brenda’s hand. She pressed harder, her fingers soaked, pushing the palm of her hand against Andrea’s pubic bone to create a delicious pressure. Andrea ground against Brenda’s hand, her clit throbbing. 

Andrea threw her head back, the hand at her breast dropping to cover Brenda’s between her thighs. She arched her back and shoved her palm hard against Brenda’s hand, a low keening sound escaping her lips. She came violently, falling back against the pillows, her breath ragged and harsh.

Brenda languidly lifted her hand to her lips, sliding her fingers inside her mouth, the musky taste matching the scent that surrounded them both. 

Andrea’s eyes were half open and hooded, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Almost as good as chocolate?”

Brenda hummed around her fingers and then she dropped her eyes, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

“Was it….was I all right? Did you like what I did…”

Andrea pulled Brenda to her and kissed her with such gentleness that Brenda felt she might faint.

“Perfect. You were perfect,” she breathed in Brenda’s ear. 

Andrea brushed Brenda’s hair back from her face and smiled.

“For a first time.”

“First time?” Brenda said archly. “What makes you so sure there’ll be a second?”

“I’m a lawyer,” Andrea smiled. “I can be fairly persuasive on occasion.”

Brenda answered her with a kiss, losing herself again in the softness of Andrea’s lips. 

She gave a contented sigh and hooked the comforter that had fallen to the end of Andrea’s bed with her foot and dragged it over them until she could pull it with her hands to twitch it lightly over their twin shoulders.

“I take you’d like to stay?” 

“If that’s all right,” Brenda murmured.

Andrea’s answer was to pull Brenda closer, her lips lightly touching Brenda’s neck, their feet tangling together.

Brenda closed her eyes, more content than she’d felt in months. The morning would come soon enough with all its complications, but for now it was enough to sleep, enfolded in the arms of a woman at last.

Her final conscious thought before she slipped over the edge into oblivion was the realization that it felt like home.


End file.
